“What are you doing?” Lin Jingzhe grabbed his wrist. “Did you hear what I said? You can’t go in!”
“I heard you.” Shen Mo didn’t look back; he just tried to pull his wrist free. “Let go.”
“You — “
“I’m not going in.”
Lin Jingzhe froze, her grip loosening.
Shen Mo pulled his wrist back and continued forward. He stopped at the barrier. Then he sat down. He sat cross-legged right in front of that transparent seal.
Qin Shuying looked at his back. Lin Jingzhe also watched him. Neither of them spoke.
Shen Mo sat there, motionless. The wind whipped his robes and disheveled his long hair, leaving a few strands scattered across his face.
“Shen Mo.” Qin Shuying walked to his side and looked down at him. “Do you plan to sit here for seven days?”
Shen Mo didn’t answer.
“Chao’er might not even be alive in seven days. No one knows what the situation is inside the Devil’s Den…”
“I know,” Shen Mo interrupted.
Qin Shuying paused.
Shen Mo looked up at her. His eyes were very red — not from crying, but from staying up all night and being exposed to the cold wind for too long. Yet, his gaze remained calm.
“I know everything,” he said. “She might be dead. She might be trapped somewhere waiting to die. She might never come out.”
He paused. “But what if?”
Qin Shuying fell silent.
Standing behind them, Lin Jingzhe suddenly cursed something under her breath and kicked a nearby rock hard.
The stone rolled away, hit the seal, bounced back, and landed near her feet. She didn’t look at the rock again but walked over and sat down beside Shen Mo.
She sat three feet away from him, her back turned, clutching her sword as if thinking of nothing.
Qin Shuying looked at the two of them. One sat perfectly straight. The other clutched her sword with a stiff neck, her ears turning an incredibly deep red.
She suddenly felt like laughing, but the smile sank as soon as it surfaced. Because she saw it — she saw Shen Mo’s hands on his knees, trembling slightly. The trembling was so faint it was almost invisible.
Qin Shuying sat down on his other side. She didn’t look at him but stared at the distant Soul-Shattering Cliff, as if talking to herself. “Seven days from now, once the seal opens, I’ll go in with you.”
Shen Mo turned his head to look at her.
She didn’t look back and continued, “I’ve already handled the affairs at Heavenly Sword Peak. I’ll stay here for these seven days.”
Shen Mo opened his mouth to say something.
Qin Shuying suddenly turned and met his eyes. “Don’t say it’s unnecessary,” she said, her gaze and tone both indifferent. “I’m not doing this for you. I’ve met that child a few times; she’s somewhat likable.”
After speaking, she turned back toward Soul-Shattering Cliff, appearing cold and distant.
Shen Mo looked at her cold profile, then at Lin Jingzhe on the other side, whose ears were so red they looked ready to bleed.
He suddenly didn’t know what to say. He just lowered his head and looked at his hands. They were still shaking. He clenched his fists.
The wind continued to blow. The three of them sat before the seal, facing the abyss thirty yards away.
One in the middle, staring ahead. One on the left, holding a sword. One on the right, sitting with her hands behind her back.
No one spoke. They just sat.
The sky gradually darkened. Qin Shuying raised her hand, and a ball of Spiritual Power condensed at her fingertips. The light floated above their heads, illuminating a small area.
Lin Jingzhe pulled some rations from her storage bag and handed them to Shen Mo, who had not yet reached the state of Inedia.
Shen Mo didn’t take them.
“Eat.” Lin Jingzhe shoved the rations into his hand, her tone harsh. “If you starve to death, who’s going to go in with you?”
Shen Mo looked down at the food. It was a piece of flatbread, toasted golden-brown and still warm. He took a bite. As he chewed, he suddenly stopped.
Lin Jingzhe saw his expression and felt her heart skip a beat. “What’s wrong? Is it poisoned?”
Shen Mo shook his head. He just remembered that this bread was made by the kitchen at Bright Moon Peak.
Chao’er loved it the most. Every time before he left, she would pester him to bring a few extra pieces.
Shen Mo took another bite. He chewed slowly and swallowed.
Lin Jingzhe watched his profile, her mouth opening to say something before swallowing her words. She simply shuffled a bit closer to him.
Shen Mo suddenly spoke. “She was eight years old when she first came to Bright Moon Peak.”
His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself. But the other two heard him.
“Back then, she only reached my waist. She was timid, not even daring to speak loudly. When I asked her name, she kept her head down for a long time before squeezing out ‘Chao’er.'”
“I asked about her parents; she said they were gone. I asked if she was willing to stay at Bright Moon Peak, and she looked up at me with red eyes and nodded vigorously.”
Shen Mo paused.
“That night, she had a nightmare and came to find me crying. I held her and coaxed her all night. She fell asleep in my arms, her hands gripping my sleeve so tightly I couldn’t pry them loose.”
Qin Shuying listened without speaking. Lin Jingzhe listened without speaking either. Both of them instinctively moved a bit closer to him.
Shen Mo continued. “Later, as she grew up, she stopped crying as much. But every time she came back from a trip, the first thing she did was run to find me. She’d tell me what she saw on the road, what she ate, and what talismans she drew. When I wasn’t around, she would sit on the stone bench in my courtyard and wait, sometimes for the entire day.”
“Once, I asked her why she wasn’t doing her lessons and what she was doing sitting there. She said that since her Master’s Husband wasn’t there, she couldn’t focus on them.”
His voice was a bit hoarse. He paused before continuing. “I told her that her Master’s Husband wasn’t going to run away. She said she knew, but she just wanted to wait so that when he came back, she would be the first person he saw.”
The wind stopped. The ghost fires ceased their drifting. Shen Mo lowered his head. His shoulders shook slightly.
Then a hand reached out from the left and grabbed his. It was Lin Jingzhe’s hand. She didn’t look at him, but she gripped his hand so hard her knuckles turned white.
Another hand reached out from the right and covered the back of his hand. It was Qin Shuying’s hand. It was cool, yet very steady.
They ate rations when hungry and drank dew when thirsty. Lin Jingzhe went hunting several times, roasting the prey and forcing Shen Mo to eat.
Every night, Qin Shuying would set up a defensive formation, each one stronger than the last.
Shen Mo never moved a single step. When exhausted, he would lean against a rock and squint for a while, then wake up and continue staring ahead.
His moon-white robes were covered in dust, his hair was messy, his face grew paler, and the dark circles under his eyes deepened.
But he never once said he wanted to go back.
……
Inside the Mystic Realm, the Devil’s Den.
Chao’er’s snow-white disciple uniform, which once represented the glory of Heavenly Sword Peak, was now reduced to rags that barely covered her many wounds.
Her abdomen had been pierced by a ghost-head blade. Her Spiritual Power was nearly exhausted, and every breath felt like swallowing glowing embers.
Her sword was broken, and she had used up every talisman — all thirty-six that Master’s Husband had prepared for her were gone.
She opened her eyes. Fog surrounded her. It was as thick as unthinnable milk, clinging to her skin with a damp chill.
She reached out to touch the ground beneath her; it was rough tree roots twisting through decaying leaves and moss.
Her wounds were bleeding. Life was slipping away through those gashes.
Something in the darkness was watching her, waiting for her blood to run dry so it could pounce and feast on her flesh.
Her consciousness began to blur. In a daze, she saw a light ahead. It was a very faint light, like moonlight on snow — cold, gentle, and carrying a scent she knew so well it was carved into her bones.
A figure stood in the light. He was still wearing those plain white robes, his dark hair loosely gathered with a wooden pin.
His features were as gentle as a pool of still water. He stood there, quietly watching her with a faint smile.
It was the smile she had looked at for seven years — virtuous, proper, and so perfect it seemed carved.
“Master’s Husband…”
Chao’er struggled to crawl up but realized her body no longer obeyed her. She could only lie on the ground, head tilted up, greedily staring at that figure.
“Master’s Husband, how… why are you here…”
Shen Mo didn’t speak. He just stood there like a painting, a dream, a phantom she had secretly sketched in her mind countless nights.
“I see,” Chao’er suddenly smiled, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m dying… I’m hallucinating…’
She smiled happily, as if she had finally received a precious gift. “That’s fine… to see Master’s Husband one last time before I die… it’s worth it…”
She stared hungrily at the figure, her gaze sliding from his features to his lips, then to the collarbone beneath his robes.
“Master’s Husband… I miss you so much…”
Her voice suddenly choked up. Shen Mo’s expression changed. It was an expression she had never seen before — submissive.
No. Chao’er’s breath hitched. That wasn’t submissiveness. It was the numbness after despair.
A woman’s figure emerged from the darkness and walked toward him.
Chao’er couldn’t see the woman’s face; she only saw those slender hands pinch Shen Mo’s chin, forcing him to look up.
Master’s Husband’s eyes were empty. Empty. Like a lamp that had long since burned out.
“No…”
A raspy sound escaped Chao’er’s throat. She saw the person lean down, pinning Shen Mo onto a Stone Couch. His clothes were torn open, revealing his pale shoulders.
Shen Mo didn’t struggle. He only turned his head, his gaze landing on a point in the void as his lips moved slightly. Chao’er understood the lip movements. He was saying —
‘Chao’er…’
He was calling her. Even as he was being mistreated, he was calling her name.
Something exploded in Chao’er’s mind. “No — !”
Exerting every last ounce of strength, she roared and charged forward. Spiritual Power surged wildly as her sword light slashed at the phantom — only to hit nothing.
The hallucination dissipated and re-formed. This time, she saw it more clearly. The woman pinning Shen Mo down raised her head, revealing a familiar face.
Yun He.
The Deity Transformation Sect Leader, the one who had ruined her Master’s Husband with Aphrodisiac Incense.
The same person Chao’er had seen with her own eyes that day outside the door.
The hallucinatory Yun He smiled at her. The curve of her lips was cruel and contemptuous, as if saying — ‘You saw it, but you can’t save him. You’ve always been that child who can only watch.’
“Shut up — !”
Chao’er shattered the hallucination with a sword strike. The backlash from overdrawing her Spiritual Power sent her to her knees, vomiting large mouthfuls of blood.
The demonic energy surged even more violently. In the surrounding darkness, countless eyes lit up, staring at her eerily.
These were the Nightmare Demons born in the Devil’s Den, feeding on the deepest fears of the human heart. They had smelled Chao’er’s vulnerability.
The illusions condensed again. This time, there wasn’t just one Yun He.
Qin Shuying appeared. Lin Jingzhe appeared. Even Su Wan’er appeared. They surrounded Shen Mo. Some tore at his collar, some kissed his neck, and some reached their hands under his robes.
Shen Mo was pressed down in the center, like prey being torn apart by a pack of wolves, his eyes staring blankly into the void. Who was he looking at? He was looking at her.
He was saying to her —
‘Chao’er, save me.’
‘Didn’t you say I’m the most important person to you?’
‘Then why don’t you come?’
‘Why… have you just been watching?’